One Each Day
by longdistance
Summary: Draco has a choice to make. Perhaps a little look into what could be will help him make up his mind.
1. The Shop in the Crooked Corner

Hi everyone! This short fic has been in the works for a while but I feel the need to push it forward. I've been really put off from reading lately as we've been inundated with dark, and sometimes disturbing, stories. I felt something lighter was due. It's only going to be a few chapters. I hope you enjoy it and if you do, please consider leaving a review. Thanks!

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**The Shop in the Crooked Corner**

Draco Malfoy straightened the lapels of his coat as he made his way through Diagon Alley. His dragonhide oxfords bit into the pavement with each step. He kept a brisk pace as he wove through the evening shoppers.

The shop he had his eyes set on was in a crooked corner of the Alley and not frequented often. Uncertainty clawed through his thoughts the closer he came. The blunt edge of his nails cut into his palms as he squeezed his hands. They itched for his wand to apparate home but he knew this was his last hope.

The crowd thinned as he got closer. The building was old and leaning heavily to the right. A battered wooden sign hung from the roof and swung lazily in the wind. He cast a quick look around to make sure no one was watching and quickly slipped inside.

Snow fell from his shoulders as he surveyed the room, or perhaps hovel would have been more accurate. Papers and orbs dotted dusty shelves. Feathers floated through the air above and a cauldron bubbled on the counter in front of him.

Behind the counter sat a snoozing witch. Her robes were the color of fresh cut grass in the spring and brightened her otherwise dull appearance. Wisps of unruly grey hair threatened to escape from her bun and her shoulders lifted and dropped with a slight jerk with each breath she took.

Draco's mouth pulled into a sneer but he forced himself to stay calm. Blaise had assured him that she could help and he was desperate.

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and pulled his wand from his coat. He flicked it in the direction of the bell on her counter and it dinged bright and clear.

The witch sat upright and blinked quickly. Her watery blue eyes traveled across the room before they finally leveled on him standing before her.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Zabini mentioned I might be seeing you."

Draco jerked his head in a nod. "Yes, well, I remain skeptical but at this point I'm willing to try anything." He flicked a glance over his shoulder to the closed door. "Though I would appreciate your discretion on the matter."

She cut a wrinkled hand through the air. "Of course, of course." She pulled a simple black wand from within her robes and flicked it at the door. The sign in the window panes flipped over to show closed. "There we are."

She slid off her stool and rounded the counter. Draco followed a few paces behind. Upon further inspection, many of her dusty shelves were lined with potion bottles of various shapes and sizes. Some were labeled, others were not. Some bubbled within the glass bottle and others shimmered even in the dull light.

"Ah, here we are," she announced. She plucked a small bottle from a low shelf. It was round at the bottom and the liquid within was a shade of purple that reminded Draco of the sky at twilight. "The instructions are simple. You will take one large sip right before bed each night until it is gone."

Draco eyed the bottle held between her fingers. "That looks like more than two days' worth."

A foxlike grin transformed her expression. "Indeed. I hear you have two prospects but when I look at you, I can tell there's a third that you are hesitant to consider."

His eyes widened minutely and he wondered just what Blaise had told the old crone. He didn't have time to figure it out though. She pressed the small bottle into his hands and lifted a bony finger to shake at him.

"Now you do as you're told and you'll know which choice to make."

He nodded and slipped the bottle carefully into the pocket inside his coat. "What is the cost?"

She smiled and waved him off. "An invitation to your wedding will suffice. I do so love a good wedding. Especially the sweet elf wine you purebloods are so fond of for special occasions."

If Draco thought her request was odd, he had enough tact not to voice it. He'd been prepared to part with a hefty sack of galleons so he wasn't going to complain.

"Of course," he agreed.

"Be gone with you," she ordered and shooed him with her gnarled hands. "And remember, one each day."

He nodded and stepped back out into the Alley. The sun was setting overhead and once more he checked to be sure that no one had seen him. When he was satisfied that the coast was clear, he withdrew his wand and struck the air with it.

He disapparated with a loud crack and found himself standing in the main sitting room of the manor. The grandfather clock near the doorway chimed six times and he breathed a sigh of relief knowing he wasn't late.

"See, there's your son," his mother announced when he entered the dining room. She glared at her husband who sat opposite her at the too long table.

"I had an errand to run in Diagon Alley," Draco supplied without being asked.

However, his parents were too busy glaring at one another to register the information as he took his seat halfway between them. He sighed as his dinner appeared suddenly and reached for his fork. Their bickering was becoming old. Ever since his father had been released from his six-year stint in Azkaban, the transition had been difficult.

It was clear that his parents still loved one another dearly but his mother had done much in the way of forming new opinions and changing her social circles. It was something his father had trouble accepting, being half hollow on the inside as it was.

Lucius Malfoy liked his tradition. He liked that his son had been able to repair most of the family's appearance since the war. However, he also had many expectations in exchange for his tolerance of things he still struggled to accept.

He held his tongue whenever Draco entertained friends who were less than pureblood. Of course, that was after he'd literally lost his tongue for the span of twenty-four hours when his wife hexed him for using the dreaded M word at dinner. The elder Malfoy had not chanced it since, realizing he was outnumbered.

Draco had even heard his father concede once that Hermione Granger was proving herself to be of use to the magical world with her efforts to reform Azkaban's treatment of the prisoners and the upstart of her rehabilitation program designed after that of the muggles.

Draco never bothered to ask just what Azkaban had been like for his father and decided some things were best left unsaid.

"I expect you'll have made your decision by Friday," Lucius demanded as he set down his fork.

"Choosing a witch to pursue for marriage isn't exactly an easy task," Draco retorted. His father merely lifted a single brow and he groaned. "Yes, father. But only because I know mother is keen on me settling down."

The elder Malfoy huffed and tucked into his meal again.

"He means well," Narcissa told him after Lucius had excused himself.

Draco finished his last bite of dessert and pushed the plate away. It disappeared on its own and he sighed.

"Maybe so but he ruined his life. I'd like it very much if he kept his hands out of my own."

"Either witch would be a fine match," she continued, and he knew that she had likely already tested the waters to seeing how receptive each family would be.

"I know," he sighed. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. "I'm going to bed early. I have an early meeting at the Ministry tomorrow."

Narcissa nodded and he turned his back to her. He strode through the maze of halls with practiced ease until he stood before his personal rooms. He closed the door behind himself and nearly groaned aloud.

He shed his clothes as he made his way to his bathroom. With his shirt on the floor behind him as well as his tie, he stopped to survey his appearance in the mirror. The jagged scar from Potter's curse sixth year still ran diagonally across his chest. Where his face was once so pointed and pinched like his father, he seemed to have grown into his features more with age. It was slightly easier to see some resemblance to his mother now than when he'd been younger.

However, the dirty stain of where his dark mark had been still covered much of the inside of his left forearm. It was blurred now and hard to make out the old shape of it but he knew.

A shower helped relieve some of the tension in his body and he climbed into bed wearing nothing but his underwear. The bottle of purple liquid sat taunting him on his nightstand and he was surprised to find a mild tremor in his fingers when he reached for it.

"It's all a load of rubbish," he told himself. "I highly doubt this will help make my choice clearer."

He took his large sip as directed and his last thought before sleep took him was that the witch back in Diagon Alley was going to be sorely disappointed if there was no wedding to attend after all.


	2. The Cover of Witch Weekly

Goodness! What a reception to that first chapter! I wish I could respond to each of you but please know that I do take the time to read each of your reviews and I appreciate your kind words. I won't keep you waiting any longer. If you enjoy the chapter, please consider leaving a review. Thank you!

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**The Cover of Witch Weekly**

Morning sunlight shone through the break in the curtains and Draco mentally cursed the house elf who'd thought it a good idea to open them. He threw his covers off in a dramatic flourish and was surprised when he heard a feminine grumble.

"Too early, Draco."

He flicked his gaze to the other side of the bed and found a woman lying on her side, eyes pinched closed. Her inky black hair spilled across the pillows in a straight dark curtain. His eyes trailed further down her form and found her dressed in some sort of tiny bit of black lingerie that didn't really do much for him surprisingly.

"P-Pansy," he sputtered.

He quickly realized that this was the first dream. Blaise had told him all about what to expect, as he, too, had used the potion to help him determine who to pursue for marriage. It promised dreams, or illusions, that showed what his future could be.

She threw her side of the covers back in obvious frustration and sat up to glare at him. "What is your problem? Don't you know it's far too early?"

Draco looked at the small clock on the bedside table and turned back to her with a scowl. "It's half past eight. I should have been up an hour ago."

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and fell back against the mattress. "Why do you insist on continuing with that stupid job? We're wealthy, Draco. Combine your family's assets and mine, and there's nothing we want for."

"Money isn't infinite, Pansy," he sneered.

As his eyes dragged over the lazy form of his former housemate, he was fairly certain life with Pansy Parkinson would be an unpleasant one.

"That's why you hire other people to do the dirty work of managing your business," she yawned.

He didn't bother to tell her that he was an attorney and not a businessmen like his father had been, and instead threw back his covers with a sneer and disappeared into the bathroom. The room was the same but with marked differences. Copious skincare and makeup products littered the vanity. The towel awaiting him outside of the shower was a frilly pink that he cringed just to dry off with.

Draco had to search for his toothbrush as it seemed in this life, he had no space of his own in the bathroom. When he returned to the bedroom with a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, his 'wife' was already asleep again and drooling on his pillow.

He didn't spend much time glowering at her and instead dressed as quickly as possible. He was tying a silver tie around his neck when he bumped into his mother at the base of the staircase.

"Sorry, I'm running late, mother."

She was wearing a severe frown when he lifted his eyes to meet her hard gaze. "That's terribly unsurprising given how late your wife came home last night. Pansy nearly woke the entire manor with her chattering and screeching."

He had the grace to cringe as he reached into his pocket for his wand. "My apologies, mother. I'll speak with her if she's causing issues for everyone."

She sighed and shook her head. "I just fear she wasn't ready to settle down as her parents wished. She's still interested in partying and..." Her mouth hardened before any more words could escape.

"And what?" Draco prodded.

Narcissa threaded her hands together in front of her as she walked with him to the floo. "I didn't want to say anything but I know you have little interest in gossip. I wouldn't indulge it if it weren't relevant. I fear there are rumors that she's been unfaithful, Draco."

He froze and turned his back to the fireplace. "What?"

"Caterina Greengrass heard that she's been seen with a wizard from Paris at that club she likes to frequent when you're home and trying to work to support this family."

A huff escaped him before he could stop it. He reached for a handful of floo powder and stepped into the grate. "Somehow, I find myself unsurprised," he muttered dully.

His mother's wide eyes stared back at him as he disappeared in the green flames.

Being that this wasn't reality and he had no idea what his day's schedule held, Draco decided it was best to just do what he might on any normal day. It was a weekday, that much he was sure of, and he emerged in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Witches and wizards scurried through the crowd and paper memos flew above their heads in all directions. The fountain at the center flowed as it usually did, only today the water was tinged a glittery gold.

That meant it was December. Tonight, there would be the Yule gala. The Golden Trio, as they'd been dubbed, would be on full display as always. Potter would do as he always did and merely show his face and spend most of the time trying to escape people wanting to shake his hand in place of sharing a dance with his wife. Weasley would be stuffing his face, his fiancé grinning so wide that her mouth threatened to split entirely. And Granger, she would be the most elusive of them all. She would spend her time fending off unwanted male attention and sipping a glass of wine alone at a corner table as she always did.

And speaking of Granger, Draco spotted her head of curls getting ready to enter a nearby lift and he surged forward to catch up. A passing memo informed him that it was Tuesday. And if it was a Tuesday, he normally attended a compliance meeting first thing.

"Morning, Granger." Draco gave her a sharp nod as he stepped in beside her.

The gate snapped shut in front of them and they both reached for a handle to hang onto as it shot forward.

"Morning, Malfoy." She shuffled the parchment in her hands and stole a quick glance up at him. "How are you?"

He observed her crisp outfit with careful discretion. Her curls were pulled back into a messy chignon and her red blouse was tucked decorously into a neat pencil skirt that ended just above her knees. She was the image of proper business decorum.

He ran his tongue along his lower lip as he rolled her question around in his mind. "I've been better," he answered honestly.

Over the years since the war, he'd of course apologized, and they'd reached a subtle friendship of sorts. He was more open with her than other former schoolmates. Potter and Weasley merely tolerated his presence at social functions but she engaged him in debate regularly.

At least, that was what it was like in his reality. But this was a dream. He had no idea what him marrying Pansy would do to that delicate friendship.

However, when he chanced another look at her, she was cringing and doing a horrible job of hiding it. Hermione Granger wasn't a good liar though.

"What is it, Granger?"

Hermione sputtered as the lift yanked them backward. "Well, I don't really pay attention to the sort of thing. It was Lavender who wouldn't shut up about it really. Ginny and I both told her to shut it but—"

"Spit it out," he barked a little too loudly. He sighed when she flinched. "Just say it," he tried more calmly.

"Well, here." Hermione reached into the bag on her shoulder. Her arm went in nearly to her elbow before she withdrew a magazine. "I'll just let you read it yourself. It's probably fabricated though. You know those things aren't terribly reliable."

Draco snatched the glossy magazine from her and ran his eyes over the cover. Blasted all over the cover was a picture of Pansy hanging on the arm of some bloke in a club. She might as well have been wearing her lingerie because the so-called dress she was in was little more than that. The caption read _'Trouble in paradise for the Malfoys?'_

His initial reaction was anger. It wasn't just the insipid purebloods who were gossiping about her infidelity. It was the whole of the wizarding world. He'd look like a fool. However, at the back of his mind, he remembered that this was only a dream. He would get to wake up from it eventually.

He sighed and handed it back without reading the accompanying article. "Thanks, Granger. My mother doesn't subscribe to those magazines so I wouldn't have known about it." A partial lie but necessary to get through this interaction.

"I don't either actually." Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. "I wrangled it away from Lavender last night when we all had dinner. She wouldn't stop talking about it."

A smirk curled one edge of his mouth as he gazed down at her. The door opened to the compliance office's floor and he glanced back. "I'm not stupid. I'd never assume a witch like you would subscribe to that rubbish."

Draco didn't stick around to see her cheeks flush. Blaise showed up at his side shortly after he took his seat for the meeting.

"I hate these bloody meetings," Blaise grumbled. "As if I care whether the Department of Mysteries is compliant with the latest rubbish laws. We don't even bloody know what they do! How would I know if they're even compliant?"

Draco snorted as he twirled a quill between his fingers. "Who cares, Blaise? My wife is a cheating bitch. I have bigger issues than the continuous confusion of how this bleeding Ministry actually functions."

His best friend cringed. "Right, I'd heard about that from Daphne."

Draco pinned him with a dark look. "And you thought it best not to tell me?"

Blaise gave a sheepish shrug. "We sort of thought you knew. You've been working yourself to the bone here lately. Daphne and I thought you were avoiding her at home."

Draco frowned at this. He was serious about his job, that was for certain. He'd had to be in order to be taken seriously after the war. However, he'd never intended to become a workaholic like his father had been before Voldemort's reemergence.

He wanted the things he'd seen others grow up with. Even people like Weasley had what he didn't growing up—a true family. He didn't want to get wrapped up in appearances and social rankings. He wanted to come home to a wife that would love him as much as he would love her. It was the missing piece in his transformation

The rest of his day was filled with sympathetic stares and amused grins. Even Weasley seemed to have sympathy for him which was pushing it. It seemed that more people read the magazine than he would have thought. His mother was pacing in front of the fireplace when he emerged from it that evening.

"Draco, I assume you haven't heard..."

"What? That apparently everyone now assumes my wife is having an affair?" He rolled his eyes as he crossed the room and took up the bottle of bourbon his father kept on the cart. "Granger showed me the magazine and tried, oh so kindly might I add, to tell me that it was likely rubbish but you and I both know differently."

Narcissa swallowed. "I wish I wouldn't have encouraged you to court her."

"It's not your fault, mother." He knocked back the bourbon and made for the door. "Regardless, I'll handle her after the Yule gala this evening. I won't be made to look like a fool."

Dreams were strange things. One moment Draco was stomping up the spiraling staircase and the next he was standing in the atrium of the Ministry again. Faerie dust sprinkled the air and the great fountain was gushing golden water now. Decorated trees dotted the perimeter of the room and sneaky bits of mistletoe grew in unsuspecting places. A quick glance down at his attire assured him that at least this wasn't one of those dreams where he forgot his clothes. He'd managed to change into his best dress robes.

The far end of the atrium had been turned into an event space and round tables dotted the tiled flooring. The crowd was growing but he was able to easily spot Potter dancing with his wife. Every time someone tried to speak to the dancing couple, Potter twirled the Weaslette faster and away. Weasley was by the food table piling a plate with finger foods while his annoying fiancé chattered at his side.

But Granger, where was she? A scan of the room told him she was either missing entirely or off to the loos.

"There you are, Draco."

A sharp scowl twisted his mouth as he turned to find his wife stepping out of a nearby floo. "Pansy," he bit out through clenched teeth.

She wrapped a manicured hand around his bicep and propelled them forward into the festivities.

"I'm sorry I wasn't ready when you left. I had trouble getting my nails done in Diagon Alley this morning. Stupid bint used the wrong nail polish." She rolled her eyes. "And your mother was being especially insufferable today."

Draco gritted his teeth as she twittered at his side. "That may have to do with the fact that you were all over the cover of Witch Weekly hanging off of some wanker in Paris last week." He halted their movement and turned to face her. He had no idea what kind of husband he'd been to Pansy but she wasn't the kind of witch not to tell him if he'd been an arse to her. "Care to explain that?"

Her lips curled into a sneer, making the slash of red painted across her mouth look like an uneven gash. "Witch Weekly is rubbish, Draco. Who are you going to believe? Me or some magazine?"

"There were pictures, Pansy."

His voice was beginning to rise and an audience seemed to be forming around them. He pressed on regardless.

Pansy pressed her fisted hands to her hips and scoffed. "Well, you know what, Draco, perhaps if you spent less time at work and more time with your wife then maybe I wouldn't be out searching for attention."

"So, you admit it then? You're cheating?"

She opened her mouth to speak but the scene began to blur around him. He felt dizzy on his feet.

Draco's eyes flew open and he sat up in bed as his alarm buzzed on the nightstand beside him. A quick glance to his right told him he was alone in bed. The room was still washed in shadow but he could tell that nothing had changed.

With a groan, he dragged a hand down his face. "Definitely not Pansy then."


	3. Picture Perfect

Holy guac! You guys are the best! Thanks so much for your interest in this little story. I don't want to keep you waiting any longer. I promise your patience will pay off and soon you'll get your promised Dramione. Don't you worry about that. ;) Please read and leave a review if you enjoy this chapter.

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**Picture Perfect**

"You look stressed."

The Ministry canteen was especially noisy and Draco had been so lost in thought that when he heard her voice, he realized he'd been scowling at his sandwich. His eyes lifted to find her chocolate ones blown wide and staring at him. Her hands were wrapped around a takeout tray and her eyes flicked to the empty seat opposite him.

Draco shook his head and gestured to the chair. "Have a seat, Granger."

"Thanks." She graced him with a relieved smile and fell into the seat. "There's a meeting about Hogwarts' possible curriculum update this afternoon and this place is swarming with nosy gits with more galleons than sense."

He nodded though he honestly hadn't remembered hearing about that. He was still rather consumed with his disappointing dream. Striking Pansy from his list of potential marriage prospects wasn't exactly disappointing but he feared what the next would be like.

"Something wrong?"

"Hm?" He blinked and finally registered that she'd said he looked stressed. That was certainly one emotion he was feeling. "Oh, no, I'm just a bit tired. Had a strange dream and didn't sleep well."

"Oh, you should talk to Luna about that sort of thing." When his face scrunched in confusion, she gave a self-conscious laugh. "Lovegood. Luna Lovegood. You remember her, right?"

"Right," he nodded and dusted crumbs from his hands. "Looney...err...Lovegood. But what does she have to do with it?"

"Luna has a shop in Diagon Alley. I felt sure she was completely mental at first but she's actually created a lucrative business in helping people with their dreams. Dream interpretation, stopping bad dreams, inciting good ones...I don't quite understand her methods but I can't argue with her success."

"Hm, well I'll keep that in mind." Draco watched her as she carefully lifted a forkful of food to her lips. He had to look away when the utensil passed the barrier of her mouth. "So, will you be attending the Yule gala this week?"

He didn't know why he asked. She always did. Some lucky bloke would have asked her already but she'd likely turned him down.

Hermione grimaced though and she bit her lip. "No, I'm not sure I will this year."

Draco lifted his head in obvious surprise. "What's the matter? McLaggen not taking the hint again? I can speak with him, if you'd like." He fidgeted in his seat. "Though I'm sure Weasley or Potter will have already done that."

Hermione tipped her head as she surveyed his expression. Her curious gaze took him in as if studying one of the oldest books in Hogwarts' library.

"No, thankfully. Actually, no one has even asked this year." She shrugged. "I suppose my years of spinsterhood have finally convinced all of the men to steer clear."

Draco snorted and quickly regretted it when she frowned and looked down at her food. There'd been a time, even for a short while after the war, when he'd have enjoyed that look on her. Maturity meant that he'd learned to appreciate many things that he once turned his nose up on and she was no exception. He was different now and so were his opinions of Hermione Granger.

"Well, if you'd like...I mean it doesn't have to mean—"

"Hermione! There you are!"

Draco's lips drew back into a snarl. He looked up and glared at Ron Weasley and Harry Potter as they came to stand as the end of the table he and Hermione were sharing.

"Weasley," he grumbled in greeting and his eyes flicked to Harry. "Potter," he spat.

Ron waved him off with a careless flick of his wand. "Shove off, Malfoy!"

"Ronald," Hermione chastised and made a grab for his wand. "You're going to put your eye out like that."

Draco didn't like the peculiar way that Harry was eyeing him. Like he knew something but he wasn't going to say it aloud.

Harry turned his green eyes on Hermione though and Draco was forgotten. "Ginny wants you to come by tonight to see her dress if you can."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Tell her I'll come by after work."

She glanced at the watch on her wrist and then shot Draco a small smile. "Sorry, I've got a meeting in ten minutes. I'll have to finish my lunch later."

Harry and Ron marched off ahead of her but she turned back before she got too far. "Sorry, Draco, were you trying to say something before Harry and Ron found us?"

He swallowed and exhaled a heavy breath. "No, Granger. Nothing."

She smiled at him and he was left with nothing but a crappy sandwich and his own self-loathing.

Draco stood before his bed with the bottle pinched between his fingers. He sighed and threw back a large gulp as he'd been instructed. The sheets were heavy and warm as he slipped between them and laid back.

When he opened his eyes next, he was alone. His room looked much like it did before, sans the old curtains. His watch and wand lay untouched on the nightstand.

Draco surveyed the room and then sat up. He was lying in the center of the bed, no other body in sight. And yet, when he looked down at his hands, a shiny silver band wrapped around his left ring finger.

"What in the hell?" he muttered to himself.

He went about his normal routine, dressing and readying for the day. It wasn't until he reached the threshold of the family dining room that he realized he really was dreaming after all.

Astoria Greengrass sat opposite his usual seat and between his mother and father. Draco inched his way into the room, mildly surprised when his father never looked up from his newspaper. His mother continued to stir her tea and even more strangely, Astoria took the tiniest bites of her eggs.

Draco cleared his throat and finally spoke. "Good morning, everyone."

"Good morning," Lucius nodded curtly.

His mother lifted her eyes from her tea and snapped her fingers. In the blink of an eye, a full breakfast appeared on his plate. "Good morning, dear."

He nodded and his eyes carefully tracked to the blonde witch across from him. She blinked at him and there was something about the look in her eyes—dull and vacant perhaps—? that really unnerved him.

"Good morning, darling."

Draco fought the urge to cringe at the greeting. In fact, his lips nearly pulled back in a snarl. Something about the pet name, especially falling off her tongue, twisted his gut in uncomfortable knots.

He'd not deny that he'd always found Astoria attractive in school. She'd not been on his radar for dating back then though. While she was only a year younger, she'd always seemed so innocent and naïve. Not at all like the rest of his friends, despite her parents' dark associations.

He cleared his throat and lifted a bite of sausage before his lips. "D-do you have plans today?" he ventured.

Obviously, in this dream's world, she was his wife. She was wearing the Malfoy jewels now that he looked more closely. A thick emerald hung just above her cleavage and an overlarge diamond ring sat obnoxiously on her ring finger with an equally elaborate wedding band.

"I'm joining Daphne on her portkey to Paris this morning. We're going to do some shopping before we come back to meet mother for tea this afternoon."

Draco checked each of his parents' expressions and neither appeared to have much of an opinion about that. His father merely turned the page of the newspaper and snapped it when the parchment folded in. His mother was smiling contentedly.

The entire thing was so very...dull.

"Well," Draco nodded as he lifted his napkin to his mouth, "I should be going. I have a full day today."

Astoria nodded and graced him with a placid smile. "Don't be late coming home this evening. You'll need time to change into your dress robes for the Yule gala."

He swallowed and nodded before he disappeared down the hall. He emerged from the Ministry floos coughing and dusting soot from his suit.

"I keep telling them they're due for a thorough cleaning."

Draco lifted his head and found Hermione stepping out of the adjacent floo, similarly dusting off her blouse.

"The Ministry actually care about something beyond the latest political movement? Don't be silly, Granger."

She rolled her eyes but followed right behind him as he stepped into the nearest lift. Both reached for a handhold and braced themselves as the lift shot off to the left.

Draco tried not to stare, especially when the lift stopped and a bloke from the Department of Mysteries entered, shoving Hermione a little closer to him. However, she was biting her lip and looking rather troubled. He knew the look. She got that way whenever she had to break bad news to Potter and Weasley.

"I wanted to apologize," she finally spoke when the other man got off on the next floor.

"Apologize?" What in Merlin's name could she have to apologize to him for?

"Of course," Hermione nodded.

The lift stopped and they both stepped out. They hovered in the hallway where they'd normally part ways—her to the Aurors' offices and him to the legal department.

She fidgeted on her feet, shifting her weight in her heels. She'd moved up the ranks quickly amongst the aurors and no longer worked in the field. Wearing the formal auror robes wasn't necessary for the Assistant Director of the DMLE.

"I heard what Astoria said to you. You know, the other day when she met you in the atrium after work. I know she doesn't like me."

Draco drew a slow breath. "Ah yes, my wife." He still wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. She was attractive, yes, but he didn't know much of her personality.

Hermione forced a smile and nodded. "Yes, well, she was pretty upset when she saw us talking."

Draco squinted. "Sorry, but remind me...we were just talking and she got upset?"

She bit her lip against a grin. "Well, she does seem to have a flair for the dramatics. I can't say I've ever seen a grown woman stomp her foot in public before."

Well, that was a far cry from the demure witch he'd spoken to at breakfast. Then again, it wasn't unheard of for those pureblood socialites to sometimes act like children when they didn't get their way.

He nodded slowly, making mental notes about his dream wife's behavior. "Hm, well, I'd say my wife was likely the one out of line. Don't worry over it."

She smiled at him. Not the sort of smile like she was patronizing him but the sort of smile he often saw her give to Potter and Weasley. Only it was different, too. A hint of shyness maybe?

Hermione nodded and turned down the opposite end of the hall. Draco watched her go. A shameless part of himself watched her without guilt. From the taper of her waist where her blouse was tucked to her hips which swayed with every step.

These dreams were strange things. Once he finally retreated to his own office, he blinked and he was emerging from the floo in the manor again.

"Where have you been?" Astoria shrieked when she saw him.

Draco's gaze swiveled across the room and found his wife scurrying towards him, at least that's the best description for what she was doing. Holding the skirts of her dress robes in one hand, she was taking quick little shuffling steps and looked a bit like a bird.

On instinct, he lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch. He looked up in confusion. "Work, Astoria. It's only half past five. Where else would I have been?"

A sharp scowl took over what was once a pleasant set of features just that morning. "Well, you need to get upstairs and get changed. We're going to be late at this rate."

"Have you gone mental? I have at least an hour before the festivities even start."

"Yes, but you know I like to be there by seven." She followed behind him as he began marching through the grand foyer and up the staircase. "We can find a table that best suits us and I don't want to be stuck sitting by Granger and her lot like last year."

Draco halted at the top of the stairs and turned to pin his wife with an icy glare. "And just what is your problem with Granger?"

Astoria's expression shifted again and her once bright blue eyes darkened to that of a stormy sea. "She fancies you, Draco. Everyone knows it. I don't like that she's always looking for an excuse to talk to you."

He scoffed and continued his journey. "You're barmy, Astoria. She's an acquaintance. And I'm likely some of the only intelligent conversation she gets with Potter and Weasley for friends."

"You used to hate her."

He stopped and spun around again. "And I used to be a lot of things that I'm not now. What about you? What happened to the picture of perfection wife I sat across from this morning? Where'd she bugger off to?"

She had the audacity to flip her long hair over one shoulder and step past him. "Do you honestly think I'm going to speak my mind in front of your parents, Draco? We may no longer use certain words but we're still us. Etiquette. Your mother would have a coronary if I spoke out of turn."

She stood in front of a door across the hall, one that Draco quickly surmised was likely her own rooms. It explained why he'd woken up utterly alone. Astoria was clearly a pain but also traditional.

Draco felt his heart plummet to his chest. Was this it then? Were these truly his options? A woman that bucked tradition only to feed her most hedonistic needs? Or a woman who showed the world a mere shell under which she hid the ugliest beast?

Draco sat up in bed and dragged a shaking hand down his face. Once more he was alone. His room was the same but his hand was lacking a ring. The sun had not risen yet and so he fell back amongst the sheets.

"I'm fucked," he grumbled to himself.


	4. Interlude

**Interlude**

Draco sat at a corner table in the Ministry canteen sipping his morning coffee and scowling at the Daily Prophet. He'd snuck out of the manor before his parents made it downstairs. He'd been the first person through the atrium besides the nightly cleaning wizard.

His dream still plagued him and disappointment soured his stomach. Even he couldn't deny that he was feeling rather bitter and petulant regarding the whole thing. How accurate were these dreams anyway? It wasn't set in stone, was it? People could change. Maybe it was meant as more of a precaution.

"Who pissed in your tea?"

Draco lifted his eyes and scowled at Blaise. The wizard was smirking at him and his wedding ring was catching the dull lights overhead. He wanted to yell at him. Call him a number of nasty names. None of it would have done any good though.

Blaise dropped into the seat opposite him. "Merlin, Draco, what's gotten you so upset so early in the day?"

"Bloody dreams," Draco muttered. "They've been horrible, Blaise. Pansy was a cheating bitch and Astoria was poison wrapped in a demure smile. If these dreams really are a window into what's possible then I'm bloody well fucked."

Blaise propped his chin on a fisted hand and leaned closer. "There's one last day's worth, isn't there?"

Draco's eyes widened and he nodded. "How did you know?"

He shrugged and sat back in the rickety chair. "Because I had three options, too."

"But you had three options to begin with, Blaise. I only have two real possible options."

His former housemate smirked at him as he stood. A small group of witches had just entered the otherwise empty canteen and were breaking the quiet of the morning.

"She's never wrong, that witch. Do as she says, Draco. Drink the last days' worth. I don't think you'll regret it."

Draco flicked a rude hand gesture at his back. His friend didn't see it but it made him feel a bit better.

Each day they crept closer to the actual Yule gala and Draco observed the beginnings of the festive decorations taking over the offices as he emerged from the lift. A pair of pixies zoomed over his head and red and green streamers flowed through the air in the wake.

Draco stopped at the fork which to the left lead to his own office and the right to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He could see her and her duo of idiots chatting in the doorway of her office just a few doors down. The ginger rodent threw his head back in a loud guffaw while Potter reached under his glasses to wipe at his eyes, he was laughing so hard.

He couldn't see her but he could hear her voice. That sweet but confident tone still prickled at his nerves like it had in school but it was different now. There was a haughty quality to it as she was still rarely wrong about anything but he didn't hate it anymore.

Weasley caught him staring and his grin fell into a scowl. "Oi! Got a problem, Malfoy?"

Draco's mouth twisted into a sneer and he twisted on heel before Hermione had a chance to look around her doorway and steal a look at him.

He kicked a little enchanted snowman that had been placed outside his office and grumbled when it fell apart, only to wet his trouser leg.

"Bloody holiday," he grumbled.

His mother was waiting for him at the dinner table when he returned that evening, a bit later than usual.

"Your father has already retired to his study," she informed him. She was still at the table and just beginning her dessert. "Likely to drink that swill he calls alcohol and cast shadows on the wall while he pretends that he's still powerful and intimidating."

Draco smirked to himself as he pierced his chicken with his fork. "Yes, well, far be it from us to stop him from enjoying his daydream."

Narcissa eyed her son discreetly as she chewed her cake. She set her fork down carefully and dabbed her napkin at her mouth.

"What is it, dear? You've been rather moody lately."

He shrugged and chewed his dinner but didn't really taste it. Nothing brought much joy these days. Everything was so bland and mundane. He should be thankful, truthfully, but he wished for something to change. A spark of excitement. A twinge of emotion. Anything would have been better than the bleak silence.

But that seemed to be the price for his freedom. He wasn't going to complain.

"Nothing, mother. Just the impending holidays. I'm ready for them to pass."

She nodded but it was clear that she wasn't placated by that explanation. "Yes, well, the gala will pass soon enough and then Christmas itself. The elves are planning an especially grand dinner for Christmas, you know. All of your favorite desserts."

Draco doubted it would matter. Even the roast chicken before him tasted like ash on his tongue. The knowledge of what his two prospects would turn his life into was enough to make him wish for a life as a hermit.

He ate the rest of his meal in silence and kissed his mother on the cheek as they parted ways on the stairs.

A scalding shower did little to unthaw the cold that had taken up residence in his chest. His sheets were cold against his skin when he climbed into bed and he picked up his wand to light a fire in the fireplace.

He turned his head and eyed the bottle on his nightstand. One last sip remained and he very well considered leaving it there. What was the point? It wasn't possible. His father would likely have kittens and then there was the problem of who he was. A smudged dark mark was still burnt magically into his skin. He'd said things. Vile things. Stood by while others did even worse.

It had been years of course and he'd changed but his decisions would always follow him. Death Eater. Bigot. Criminal.

The charges may have been dismissed but he wasn't stupid. The grime was hard to scrub away. Sometimes he thought he felt phantom spells residing in the very walls of the manor. Even with that room locked and warded against entry.

With a great sigh, Draco reached for the bottle. He uncorked it and downed the last sip quickly before chucking the bottle into the fireplace. The fire grew for a moment and turned purple before it settled again into crackling red and gold flames.

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Thank you so much for continuing to read. Forgive the short chapter, if you will. What you really want is next. I swear! Anyone want to take guesses on how it's going to go? Drop a review! ;)


	5. Something Daring

Woo! Thank you all again for your reviews. Without further ado...

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**Something Daring and, Frankly, Controversial**

Draco's eyes fluttered in the dark. The curtains hadn't been drawn and moonlight poured across the unfamiliar room. He registered the snow coming down in large flakes. They were so heavy they plummeted to the ground below at breakneck speed.

He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dark room and he didn't recognize the curtains. Nor the wardrobe on the far wall. A vanity caught his eye and that was stranger still as he had no use for such furniture. The surface of it was laden with a woman's things. A brush, hairclips and makeup, and a framed picture he couldn't make out in the dark.

The rest of his senses began to catch up with him and he felt the weight of another body draped over him. Warm breath tickled his bare shoulder and a small hand lay over his heart. Soft hair fell like a rush of water, curls and waves flowing over his arm.

Further down, a slender thigh rested over his hip and toes brushed against shin. He realized that she wasn't wearing pajamas because he had a palm-full of her arse covered only in her knickers. As his eyes searched in the dark, he found she was only wearing an oversized jumper.

Draco swallowed against the quickly growing desert in his throat and angled his head so that he could see her face. His heartrate kicked up when he scanned her features.

"G-Granger?" he managed to croak.

Hermione Granger shifted a little at the sound of her name and moaned. "Too early, Draco," she mumbled against his chest.

Unfortunately, his call of her name disturbed her enough that she shifted some more and that did him absolutely no favors. He could feel his own cheeks heat in the dark as she brushed against him and he felt himself harden a little.

She sighed though, uncaring, and brushed against him again. "What time is it?"

Draco tried to keep his breathing even but it was becoming a losing battle. He angled his head to the side where he'd have kept his nightstand in his old room and found a muggle alarm clock.

"Just past five," he whispered.

Hermione sighed and began moving again. "Fine. But only because I got home so late last night and missed the dinner you meant to surprise me with."

Draco had no idea what this dream Hermione was talking about but he wouldn't have been able to respond anyway. She rolled away from him and shifted under their covers. He watched in fascination as she lifted the jumper from her body and then shifted it over her head. His eyes grew in size, he could feel it, and he could feel something else lower when his eyes found her bare chest.

With nothing but moonlight to guide him, he found her just as he'd imagined she'd be when his mind drifted to naughty places late in the afternoons. Small but a good handful, he wouldn't complain at all if she let him touch.

He didn't even have the chance to react though as her knickers were next to be flung from under the covers and she reached for him.

"Well, I'm awake now. Are you seriously just going to lie there?" she asked in that haughty tone. It reminded him so much of the first time she'd ever spoken to him on the Hogwarts Express first year. It had an entirely different effect now though.

Draco didn't know if he was powering his body or not but he wasted no more time in shifting until he was hovering over her.

This was a sight he'd never imagined he would see. Hermione Granger underneath him in all her glory and wanting _him_. The second his knees settled between her legs, she wasted no time in cradling his face in her hands and pulling his mouth to hers.

The rings on her finger reminded him that this was indeed a dream. A much more pleasant beginning than the others though. This was the first time any woman had shown interest in him. And if her tongue had its say, she was quite interested.

Draco's heart threatened to beat right out of his chest. Her kiss was both deep and teasing. Her body shifted and pushed against him, inciting his arousal even further. Her slender fingers trailed over his back and down his spine until he felt the tips of her fingers tease under the edge of his pants.

"Off," she managed between kisses.

It was awkward and by no means sexy as he struggled to kick them down to the foot of the bed with her assistance. Her gentle laughter caressed his ears but she was kissing him again so quickly that he had a hard time caring.

"Th-the charm," he stuttered as her lips trailed down the edge of his jaw.

"Doesn't matter," she breathed.

Draco lost any ability to argue when he felt her hand on him, and the next thing he knew he was inside her.

The world spun and he froze over her. The pleasure was overwhelming. Her touch was hot and the moment she moaned, he thought he might lose it.

Hermione's hands moved over his back until she locked them over his biceps. She couldn't wrap her hands around them but that didn't stop her from squeezing tightly.

"Move, Draco."

With his limited dating history, he was momentarily petrified of disappointing this witch he'd only fantasized of being with. Granted, that's still sort of what this was. It wasn't real but Merlin, did he want it to be. She groaned when he pulled her closer and began moving.

The unfamiliar room was silent minus for the sound of their breathing, her sweet moans at his ear, and the way he groaned when her nails dug into his skin.

Draco caught himself before he could collapse on her. Hermione followed him when he rolled to his back and she resumed her position on his chest.

Any other time, he would have laughed at the fact that Hermione Granger fell asleep right after sex. In this dream, all he could do was lay in the darkness of the unfamiliar bedroom they shared and smile.

The sleep that took him wasn't real and it felt like only moments later he was awake again. Draco scanned the room in the dim morning light and could see more than before. It was a large master bedroom but smaller than his suite in the manor. The picture on her vanity was of them on what appeared to be their wedding day. In all, he had no major complaints.

Draco sat up in bed. Light was pouring from under the closed bathroom and he became aware of the fact that he was still nude beneath the covers when the bathroom door inched open and a half-dressed Hermione poked her head out.

"Oh good, you're up."

Even though a part of him still knew this was a dream, the rest of him couldn't quite believe that he'd slept with Hermione Granger. Or that in this dream she was his wife. Merlin knows he never would have predicted that.

Draco tried his hardest but his eyes moved on their own as they descended from her face down her body. He watched as she took her blouse from the back of the vanity chair and slipped it over her shoulders. His eyes got stuck somewhere between her navel and her lace covered breasts, and it apparently didn't go unnoticed.

His eyes snapped up at her breathy laugh.

"We've been married for nearly a year now, Draco. Are you ever going to stop looking at me like that?"

He swallowed and shook the fuzz from his brain. "When you look like that, it makes it a bit difficult."

A blush crawled up her neck and over her cheeks as she finished buttoning her blouse and tucked it neatly into her skirt. She cupped his face when she approached and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

"I really am sorry I missed dinner last night. I swear I won't be late getting home today."

He swallowed and shifted under the covers. What the hell was he? Some randy teenager? Unfortunately, she noticed and there was laughter in her voice when she backed away from him.

"If we wouldn't be late for work, I'd say yes." The twinkle in her brown eyes twisted something in his chest. "Hurry up and shower. I'll meet you downstairs."

Draco stumbled his way into the unfamiliar bathroom. It was bright but not terribly small as he might have imagined. The double sinks showed that he clearly had a side of his own and both were neatly organized which wasn't surprising. One thing they'd always had in common was their attention to organization.

After a rather cold shower, he found that he had his own closet. Albeit, his was slightly smaller than hers but at least he had his own space in this dream. In his haste to get downstairs, he looped a tie around his neck and focused on strapping his watch to his wrist. He didn't recognize the leather-strapped watch that he'd found it waiting on his nightstand with his wand but it appeared well worn.

Hermione turned away from the muggle coffee maker and set her cup down when she saw him approaching. He nearly startled when she reached up for his tie and began tying it for him.

"Make sure you're not late getting home tonight either."

His brow furrowed while he watched her slender fingers pull the knot of his tie to his throat and he looked up to meet her eyes. "Am I normally?"

She snorted but a smile chased it. "Not much but Blaise has a terrible habit of catching you in the atrium and keeping you for an extra half hour. I wouldn't mind usually but I need help with my dress for the gala."

He took his briefcase from her when she held it out and allowed her to lead him through their home to the fireplace. It was by no means anywhere near as grand as the manor but he couldn't find it in himself to be displeased with what he saw. In fact, the closer he looked, he realized that it was the Malfoy townhouse in London. He'd seen it once just before he started Hogwarts. His father normally avoided the place like the plague given that it was situated in the midst of a muggle neighborhood. Draco wasn't the least bit surprised to find that he'd have selected this for Hermione, given her history with the manor. The question was how had his parents taken such a decision in this dream.

They emerged from the floo in the Ministry atrium together. Hermione never let go of his arm as they passed the fountain spouting its glittery water. They entered the lift together and braced themselves as the gate closed and it shot backwards.

When the lift opened at the floor for both of their offices, Hermione tugged him away from it. He followed her towards her office. He watched as she slipped her wand from the pocket inside her skirt and released the wards on her door before she turned back to him.

"I have a meeting at Hogwarts to discuss the security protocols for the Triwizard Tournament. It's coming back next year and we have to get a head start."

Draco nodded as if this was something he already knew. From the sounds of things, there wasn't much they didn't share with one another. A far cry from his parents' marriage.

"No lunch then?"

"Not today."

She shook her head and her curls bounced about her shoulders. It took all of his effort not to reach out and run his fingers through them. However, it struck him that in this dream, he could likely do just that. She was his wife after all.

Draco lifted his hand and brushed her hair over one shoulder and allowed himself to savor the feeling of the silky strands. He'd always secretly wondered how it would feel, her hair having once been so untamable. However, they felt like the sleekest silk.

He didn't even ask before he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. A gentle hand came up to cup his cheek and he groaned. He was ready to press for more when another voice interrupted them.

"Oi! Don't you get enough at home, Malfoy?"

Draco pulled away from her mouth with a snarl. Potter and Weasley were approaching them from the direction of the lifts. He braced himself for the usual animosity. What would marrying their best friend do to their rocky working relationship?

"Ronald, must you be such a nuisance?" she chastised her friend.

Ron shrugged as he and Harry came to a stop. His face lacked the usual heat Draco was accustomed to whenever they had a run-in. Harry was even smiling as he cleaned his glasses on his robes.

"If it saves me from having to watch Malfoy maul you, then sure."

"Then again," Harry leaned towards Hermione conspiratorially, "if he'd just breakdown and finally marry Lavender instead of just parading her around with that bloody engagement ring, maybe he, too, would be happily married."

"It's certainly a thought," Hermione agreed.

"Ugh," Ron grumbled, "I don't have the stomach for this today. I'm going to turn in my reports."

An insult was on the tip of Draco's tongue but he withheld. It may have only been a dream but he wanted to stay on her good side long enough to see more of this possibility.

Hermione rolled her eyes and patted his chest. "I'll see you this evening then."

Draco nodded but it was a real effort to get his legs to move and leave her doorway. He was partly shocked. He'd never once admitted to a single soul about his growing attraction to the witch over the last several years.

Despite the differences in this life, his shoes were still expensive and they cut into the marble floor of the Ministry all the same. However, there was a different spring in his step as he sauntered towards his own office. It was a dream of course and it was of no concern to Draco that the hands on the clock behind his desk spun at an alarming rate.

The next time he looked up, Blaise was rapping his knuckles on his doorframe. "Time for lunch, you sorry prat!"

Draco rolled his eyes but pushed to his feet and followed his friend to the lifts. They piled in with a group of aurors that didn't include Potter or Weasley. He assumed that meant they were with Hermione meeting with McGonagall then. Lucky sods.

"Where's Hermione?" Blaise asked once they were seated with their oily plates of Shephard's pie.

"Meeting at Hogwarts," He mumbled in response. Even in a bloody dream the food was horrid. One would have thought that the potion could have at least assisted with that but then again, given the other positives, he'd keep his mouth shut.

"So, have you broken the news to your parents yet?"

Draco squinted at him and shrugged. "What news?"

Blaise's eyes flicked from side to side before he leaned across the table. "That she's pregnant," he whispered. "Last you'd said, you'd only told her parents and hadn't broken the news yet to yours."

He swallowed the rush of saliva on his tongue. No wonder she'd said the charm didn't matter. They were already expecting!

He felt his blood heat at the mere idea of it. Hermione Granger was pregnant with his child. No matter how much the world had changed, he expected that the news would still cause a stir. Even if it wasn't real, in this reality he'd officially sullied the Malfoy line.

A wicked grin curled the corners of his mouth as he thought about his father turning the same shade of red as the elf wine they would have at Christmas.

"Not yet," he finally answered. He would have likely kept that little nugget of information as present for his father for the holiday.

Blaise sat back and nodded. "Be sure to let me know when you do. Daphne and I can barely keep it together. I can't imagine Potter and Weasley are much better in that regard. I just want to see your father boil!"

"You and me both," Draco nodded. "Though I do hope my mother takes it well."

Blaise gave him an incredulous look. "Surely you're joking? Your mother thinks Hermione hung the bloody moon. Been that way since you put a ring on the witch's finger."

Draco couldn't stop the grin that spread over his mouth at this. "What's not to love?"

His friend shook his head, a wry smile firmly in place. "That's what you always say, mate. You've been head over heels for the woman since you found yourself stuck under that charmed mistletoe."

Draco frowned. That sounded about right but he wondered if he'd had the guts to tell her how he felt. If he'd admitted it to himself first even or if she'd had to pry it out of him.

The edge of his vision began to blur and the room tilted. He wanted to hold on tight. He wanted to see what else could happen, especially how blue his father would turn once he heard about the pregnancy.

However, all good things must come to an end and Draco's eyes fluttered against the first traces of morning light. He groaned as he propped himself up in bed. The remnants of his dream still felt so real. Real enough that when he glanced down his eyes widened at his tented sheets.

"Merlin," he breathed.

The logs in his fireplace were long gone now but there was a new fire in his chest. He could suffer with either of the expected choices he had or do something different. Something daring and, frankly, controversial.

The question remained...would she accept?

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And please do stay tuned. We still have to see what Draco intends to do after all. ;)


	6. A Ring Felt Far Too Presumptuous

Thank you all so much for the reviews! I'm sorry for the delay but I changed my mind midway through and had to do a rewrite. I hope it was worth the wait. One final chapter will follow. Without further ado...

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**A Ring Felt Far Too Presumptuous**

"What if she rejects me?"

Blaise snorted as they charged through the atrium together. "She won't. Weasley might not be able to see it but I think Potter knows. She fancies you. Has for a while, I think."

Draco batted away the flying memos and entered the nearest empty lift. He grabbed a handhold as Blaise hurried in next to him and the gate slammed shut. They both jerked on their feet when the lift shot off to the right.

"I'm not good enough for her."

He didn't see the way Blaise rolled his eyes. "In your opinion, no one is."

Draco gave him a dark look. "Care to add something useful for once?"

"I believe I already have," he chuckled. "You wouldn't be stomping through the Ministry this morning if it weren't for me suggesting you visit that shop in Diagon Alley. Admit it, Draco. You'd still be trying to decide between Pansy and Astoria, and we both knew even before those damn dreams that neither was right for you."

"I was prepared to do what was expected of me," he murmured.

"And be bloody miserable for it!"

The lift came to a jerky stop on their floor and they stepped off. Draco turned to look down the hall in the direction of the DMLE and felt his resolve waiver. He wasn't good with rejection. He'd been a failure for a long time. What if it continued?

"She's...she's not what I expected whenever I thought about this growing up."

"No," Blaise agreed, "she's better than you were led to believe you could have. Just try, mate. You won't know if you don't try."

Draco swallowed and reached to straighten his blazer. "Alright. And if I'm rejected, you'll spend the evening drinking my sorrows away with me?"

Blaise clapped in on the back. "I'll have my best firewhiskey waiting and ask Daphne to have a tray of those biscuits you like so much on hand."

He nodded and filled his lungs with one last breath before he took off in the direction of her office.

More decorations had gone up since yesterday. Tinsel and garland, charmed snow and miniature trees, the place was screaming holiday magic. The flames in the wall sconces flickered and cast a warm glow and offset his emotions.

Draco's blood was still cold though. He feared rejection. It was very Slytherin of him, after all. He hated not feeling confident in any venture. Self-preservation was paramount.

There were voices coming from within her office. The door was cracked and he very nearly turned back but Blaise was still standing there and made a shooing motion with his hands. When Draco glared at him, he slid his wand from within his sleeve and shook it menacingly.

"Blighter."

He turned back and lifted his hand to knock but the door opened all the way suddenly and his fist nearly collided with Oliver Wood's face.

"Merlin! Malfoy, what are you doing?"

Hermione appeared behind him and lifted on her toes slightly to peer over his shoulder.

There was a cutting insult on the tip of his tongue but he held back. That wouldn't ingratiate himself with her at all.

"What does it look like, Wood?" He gestured towards Hermione. "I'm here to speak with Granger."

Oliver shrugged and glanced back at Hermione. "I'll see you at the gala Saturday then."

He gave Draco a friendly pat on the back as he shuffled past. Draco struggled not cringe when the Scotsman walked away whistling. He was too busy feeling his heart drop to his depths of his gut.

It wasn't often he encountered Wood. He worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports and had zero reason to be in the DMLE.

Draco pulled a heavy breath in. She was going to the gala with Oliver Wood. She was taken. He'd wasted so much time and now he had no chance. The bloody Scotsman had gotten there first.

"Draco? You wanted to speak with me?"

He lifted his eyes to find her watching him in obvious concern. She even took a step towards him, a hand raised to reach out but he stumbled backwards.

"No, I..." he faked a light laugh, "I find I've forgotten. Must not have been very important then."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Okay, if you're sure."

Draco nodded. "Positive, Granger."

He turned swiftly on heel and marched back down the hall. He kicked a miniature tree as he passed Blaise.

"What happened?" Blaise demanded. He cast a look back to find Hermione still watching them.

"She's going to the gala with Oliver Wood," Draco growled. "Prepare the firewhiskey."

"What?!" Blaise caught Draco's office door before he could slam it in his face and shimmied into the room. "Explain."

Draco fell into his desk chair and propped his feet on his desk. "What's to explain, Blaise? I nearly ran smack into the bloke and he told her on his way out that he'd see her at the gala. She's going with him. I was too late."

Blaise paced the length of Draco's office. "No, I refuse to believe you're too late."

"She has a date. I'm a lot of things, Blaise, but I'm not the kind of man to go after a witch who's already taken."

He cut a dismissive hand through the air. "It's not over until the fat witch sings." He stopped and pointed a stern finger at his friend. "Flowers. Granger is the type to like flowers. Send her flowers. And books."

"Blaise," he started with a shake of his head.

"No, Draco. Not now that you've finally admitted that you fancy the witch."

Draco dropped his feet from his desk and glared. "What do you mean finally?"

"Oh please, I've seen the way you look at her. I've been waiting bloody years for you to own up to this. You're not backing out now. I'll coach you through this. Start with flowers. Even if she is going with Wood, it's not like they're a package deal yet. It can't hurt to let her know you're interested."

Draco grumbled something insulting under his breath but reached for a piece of parchment to send out an order.

He worked late in order to avoid an interrogation from his parents. It was Thursday and that meant that Saturday was the gala. Tomorrow his father expected a decision. It was something he didn't intend to deal with until he absolutely had to.

While he was sitting at his desk, the sconces lining the hall being the only lighting past his own office, an owl swooped in and landed on his desk. The owl cocked its head curiously before it leaned forward and dropped a letter from its beak.

Draco watched as it flew back through the open door and reached for the letter.

_Your order has been delivered and received by the recipient._

_Thank you for choosing Gladwell's Magical Flowers_

She got the roses then. He'd sent an assortment of colors, not wanting to leave out any particular meaning in case she was well-informed on the subject. And he'd sent them to her flat just in case it might cause her any discomfort to receive such attention at work.

He'd purposefully only signed with his initials. On the off chance this thing with Wood was serious, he didn't want there to be extensive evidence out there proving his feelings for her. It was hard enough to admit to himself how he felt, he didn't especially want to be mocked for it should word get out after she was already involved with someone else.

* * *

Draco very seriously considered not going to the gala. She'd been absent at work Friday and he had no clue how she'd reacted to the flowers. He'd sent a book, too. One from his personal library that he knew for certain she didn't own. The book was only one of two in existence and the other remained at Hogwarts. He'd caught her staring at it fondly once in their final year. Those were the days when he'd just been trying desperately not to be seen. Especially by her.

His mother had spent Friday decorating the manor from top to bottom. That included his own rooms. His lip curled while he tied his bowtie, the sight of the extravagant decorations wearing on his nerves. His mother was getting more and more out of control each year and had been since the first Christmas after the war. He'd never admit it but he wondered if she was compensating for all of the darkness this house once knew.

Satisfied, he marched down the stairs. A few house elves scurried through the foyer but halted to a dead stop when he came into view.

"Tittle," he called.

One of the smaller elves' eyes widened and he hurried forward. "Yes, Master Draco?"

Draco knelt down on one knee and withdrew a slim envelop from within his dress robes. "Could you arrange for the decorations in my rooms to _magically_ disappear? I find them a bit overwhelming."

Tittle's large eyes grew in size, if such a thing was possible, and he nodded enthusiastically. The other elves clapped their hands excitedly and they all disappeared with a loud pop.

"Bribing the elves again, are we?"

Draco sighed as he took to his feet again and turned to face his mother. He shrugged. "They enjoy their puzzles. It's merely a voucher for one of those new levitating ones from Marin's Magical Oddities."

"You've become soft, dear." The words may have sounded like an admonishment but Narcissa was smiling as she approached. She reached up and straightened his bowtie. "You were absent from dinner last night. Your father expected an answer as to which woman you intended to choose."

He had hidden away at Blaise and Daphne's because he knew that his father would pressure him for an answer. The truth was that he wasn't sure he'd even have one.

Draco pushed at her hands gently. "You'll both know when I know."

Narcissa pressed her lips together. "Of course, dear."

His eyes drifted to the fireplace behind her. "I'll see you at the gala."

He emerged from the floos and dusted off his robes as he took in the sight of the atrium. The glittering water of the fountain was flowing and the entire space had been transformed into a practical winter wonderland. It reminded him much of the Yule ball third year. The memory of that brought back the sight of Hermione. She'd been transformed. Even he'd not been able to muster up any nasty insults for her.

Still on the outskirts of the event, Draco scanned the crowd and spotted the usual suspects. Potter was seated with his wife at one of the many tables. The poor sod looked like a caged tiger on display as he fumbled his way through speaking with the various witches and wizards who forced their conversation on him and his wife. Weasley was at the buffet table with a plate of food piled high, his fiancé twittering at his side.

And Hermione, she was nowhere in sight.

He sighed to himself. He'd sent one last gift but had no idea how it would have been received. He could only hope that if she did figure out that it was him, she wouldn't take his head off if she wasn't interested.

"There you are."

Draco turned at the sound of Blaise's voice and found him approaching with Daphne on his arm. He spared kiss on the cheek for Daphne and merely glared at Blaise.

"I hope you don't mind but Blaise told me everything," Daphne smiled kindly. It was striking how much nicer she was than her sister had been in his dream.

"He's always had a big mouth so I shouldn't be surprised."

Daphne ignored the look they were sharing and pressed on. "She'd be a fool to pass you over, Draco."

Draco joined them as they selected a table. His eyes roved over the growing crowd. A sea of his co-workers and their partners twirled the dancefloor and mingled in small clusters for conversation. The assortment of attendees was larger than usual this year and Draco made a mental note to find out just what Professor McGonagall was doing there.

His chest seized however, when he spied Oliver Wood take a seat with Potter and his wife. The former quidditch captain had a drink in hand but was otherwise alone. Weasley and his annoying fiancé joined the table as well leaving one seat vacant.

"Maybe she didn't come after all," Blaise offered.

"Or just running late," Daphne added and pointed towards the floos.

She was only visible for a short moment before she disappeared into the crowd. Draco caught himself sitting straighter in an effort to follow her movements.

Blaise nudged his elbow into his side. "Go talk to her!"

Hermione reappeared at her friends' table. Draco felt his blood drain from his face when she pulled out the seat next to Wood. He swallowed and all of the dreams came back to him in a rush. He wanted to cling onto the one she'd starred in. Wanted to remember every tiny detail and each feeling. However, when Wood slung an arm over the back of her chair as their table erupted into raucous laughter, he felt it all slip away. And he wanted to bloody the git's nose.

"I need a drink," he muttered.

His feet felt like the heaviest cauldrons as he meandered through the crowd.

"What'll ya have?" asked the wizard behind the bar.

"Firewhiskey."

Was this what heartache felt like? It was no wonder he'd avoided his feelings for her all this time. For certain he'd changed, but there were things that would never go away. His surly father or the smudge on his arm. There was also their past to consider. Apologies were lovely but it couldn't truly erase the way he'd once treated her. Why would she bother with someone who had such a dark history?

Yes, this surely had to be heartache. It was like a mediwizard had reached right into his chest and scooped out his heart. He was hollow. When had he even given his heart away? The very thing he'd never chanced with any other witch? And all because of a simple dream? A look into what could be but wasn't guaranteed?

A glass of firewhiskey floated over to him and he pulled it from the air. The first sip went down just like its name. Fire burned a path down his throat and settled into his empty stomach. It was a poor time to remember that he'd hardly had an appetite all day.

"There you are."

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion and he glanced at his glass. There was still a good three quarters of liquid there. Food or not, he couldn't be gone so soon.

"Draco?"

Well, he couldn't be imagining that.

He turned slowly and his breath seized. Hermione stood before him and her hand was raised as if she'd been about to tap his shoulder. His eyes trailed along her form before he could stop himself. Dressed in a crème colored muggle gown, the material looked like water flowing over her form. A single slit cut up the side of her left leg and just past her knee. It was enough to cause a drought in his throat.

"Sorry. What?"

Hermione cocked her head to one side as she studied him. "I was hoping you'd be here."

Draco blinked. "I-I didn't think you were coming."

"Change of plans actually." She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. "Could we talk?"

"Sure," he nodded. He turned back to the bar and slammed back the rest of his drink, wincing as the fire trickled down his throat.

Draco felt her fingers grasp his sleeve and she pulled him around the outskirts of the room like a child. He ignored the curious looks. It was easy when he was still caught in his own surprise. He really shouldn't have been though. While she had her moments of being quiet, she had always been bold when the need arose.

She pulled him past the party and back towards the fountain. It was quiet here minus the rushing of the water. She pulled him to the side furthest from the floos and then motioned for him to take a seat next to her on the edge of the fountain.

Draco eased down onto the aged brick and ran his hands over his robes. "You wanted to speak with me in a capacity that required seclusion and leading me about like a naughty child caught stealing sweets in Diagon Alley?"

Hermione huffed and shook her head. She'd managed her mane of curls into a messy chignon or the curls would have brushed over her shoulders with the gesture.

"Yes, exactly. Naughty children must be treated accordingly." When he merely raised his brows in question, she sighed. "You know, Draco, while I loathe people constantly referring to me as the brightest witch of her age, they don't really do so without reason. Was I not supposed to know who D.M. was?"

She was just going to get right to it then. He really shouldn't have been surprised. She'd always been direct when it was warranted.

He swallowed his nerves. "I was hoping should any note fall into the wrong hands then they wouldn't immediately put the pieces together. Especially if you rejected me."

She twisted a little to face him better and he watched as she crossed her legs carefully in her dress. "You think I'm going to reject you?"

He tried to form a smile but knew it came off as more of a grimace. "I think it would be necessary given the circumstances."

Hermione shook her head. "What circumstances?"

He held his hands out as if it was obvious. "Your date."

"My date?"

"Your date!" Draco stood abruptly and turned to face her. "You came with Wood. I saw him leaving your office Thursday when I was coming to speak with you. He said he'd see you at the gala and he was at your table tonight."

The tip of her tongue ran across her lower lip as she shook her head. "You're bloody mental, Draco. That didn't stop you from sending me flowers and a book, did it?"

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment. "That was Blaise's doing. He told me I should. I knew I shouldn't have listened to him. Look, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to—"

She laughed and his eyes snapped up to meet hers. "Actually, I think you were. You men are so oblivious sometimes." She patted the brick next to her for him to sit again but he shook his head. She narrowed her eyes sternly and he sighed before he retook his seat. "I need you to say it. Not some vague note or material items delivered by one of the most obstinate and haughty birds I've ever met—I need to hear you say it."

He closed his eyes and he was twelve again. He was twelve and she was telling him off for his father basically buying his way onto the Slytherin quidditch team. He was thirteen and she was winding up to slap him across the face. He even remembered the sting.

"I..." he sighed. Might as well say it so he could start moving on. "I fancy you. It's more than that though. I think...I may be in love with you."

It had never occurred to him how deep his feelings ran until his tongue was loosening with her encouragement and a healthy glass of alcohol in his bloodstream. But it was true. It had likely been for a while but Draco was a professional at denying his emotions. He'd been doing it since Hogwarts after all. Self-preservation and all that.

He opened his eyes finally but didn't meet her curious stare. He could feel her gaze on him. Feel it searching.

"Do you remember the time the Ministry thought they'd try having a silent auction to support Hogwarts' new greenhouse additions?"

Hermione nodded, a slight smile shaping her mouth now even though he didn't see. "That was about five years ago. I was still an auror then."

Draco smiled to himself. "You were and I recall you were working the event that night with Potter and Weasley."

"Oh," she scrunched her eyes shut at the same memories resurfaced for her, "I believe I lectured your mother about the importance of supporting advancing educational opportunities when she turned her nose up at the auction items." She cringed. "I don't know if I ever actually apologized for that. I was probably out of line."

He chuckled. "Not in the slightest. It was a turning point for her actually."

Draco reached back to scratch at his neck nervously. This wasn't territory he was comfortable with. He'd grown up keeping his innermost thoughts and feelings to himself. It was survival. It was the best way to accomplish his own agenda, keeping his cards close to his chest. However, if he was ever going to be worth her time, even as just a friend, he'd have to do more than ask forgiveness for his past stupidity.

"It wasn't the first time I saw you lecture anyone. It was a rather common occurrence growing up. However, it was the first time that I appreciated it rather than rolled my eyes. You're brilliant. That's never been a question. But..." He shrugged. "I don't know, Hermione. Something snapped. I saw everything I'd always ignored. I actually saw you." He placed his hands on his knees, ready to leave if she wasn't moved by that story enough to forgive him for overstepping with his gifts. "Anyway, that's when it started, I think. It's hard for me to tell. I've not really allowed myself to consider it until recently.

Hermione touched his arm. "But why did you never say anything? That was so long ago now."

He finally glanced at her and nearly wished that he hadn't. He hated being pitied. "You and Weasley were still dancing around one another at the time and I've watched you turn down bloke after bloke, rarely going on dates. I never even thought of saying anything. We were just becoming friends. I didn't really understand that what I was feeling was different from friendship."

Hermione released a shaky breath and shook her head. "Draco, do you know why I've been turning them all down? Why nothing beyond a childish relationship never materialized between me and Ron?" He shook his head and she continued. "Because I was waiting on you! I suppose I should tell you how long I've fancied you then."

He swallowed. That was more than a little bit of a surprise. He figured he'd have to work for her attention.

"But what about Wood? It's not like I can forget that you came here tonight with him."

She turned her eyes to the charmed ceiling and groaned. "It's clearly a male trait to be so bloody oblivious." She met his confused gaze. "I'm not here with Oliver. We're working together right now as next year the Triwizard Tournament is returning to Hogwarts. He told me he didn't have a date to the gala and asked if he could sit with all of us this year. I told him yes, of course. It was never a date. Not even before you sent me those flowers."

A trickle of déjà vu worked itself through Draco's mind. She'd mentioned the Triwizard Tournament in his dream.

"So, to be clear, you and he..." He shook his head.

"Not a chance." She laughed and the sound was music to his ears. "Oliver is a wonderful friend and colleague but I'd sooner spend my time trying to convince Luna Lovegood that nargles are a figment of her imagination, a lost battle might I add, than go out with Oliver Wood."

"Not good enough for you?" he asked, a slight sneer in his voice that he'd not been able to tamp down.

"Not blonde enough for me," she quipped. She reached out and brushed the tips of her fingers over his cheek, eliciting a shudder. "Or obstinate, or well read, or a number of things I find attractive in the wizard currently looking at me as if I've just lost my mind."

She smiled and dropped her hand to her lap. "We must have some connection with the Yule gala because I'd say my feelings about you changed drastically about three years ago. It was my first year not working as an auror and I was new in this position. Marcus Flint and his date made some snide remarks about my red dress matching the décor. You were standing close by with your mother and I heard you snap at him after I turned to walk away. You even made a point to ask me to dance and then twirled me right in front of them."

She blushed with her admission but continued to meet his eyes. Brave. She'd always been so brave.

Draco turned to look straight ahead. "You didn't deserve to be spoken about that way and Flint has always been an arse. I wanted to be friends. It wasn't something I would have even been allowed to consider when we were younger."

He felt her fingertips on his chin and allowed her to guide his gaze back to her.

"We're not children anymore, Draco."

Her eyes darted to his mouth. He watched it happen and yet still wasn't sure it was real. The air in the room seemed thin but perfumed with a heady rose infused scent.

Her palm smoothed along his cheek and she came closer. Her breath ghosted across his parted lips. He inhaled the sweet scent of peppermint. Fire suddenly coursed through his blood and he was the one that closed the final distance.

Her mouth was soft against his and her muffled whimper sent a shiver down his spine. He braced a hand on her hip and squeezed gently. She felt like heaven under his touch. From the hint he'd experienced in his dream, he realized that it wasn't even a fraction of how good she would feel.

Hermione responded in kind, her hand on his cheek falling to his chest before its mate wandered into his hair. She smiled against his mouth when the brush of her tongue over his lips elicited a throaty groan.

"Fuck!"

Draco jerked back at the sound of Ron Weasley's screeching voice. A spell was on the edge of his tongue but Hermione's hand on his wrist kept him for reaching for his wand.

"Ron, can we help you?"

A smirk pulled at him mouth just hearing her haughty tone directed at his least favorite of her friends. However, he hated it when she pulled away to stand and face him.

"Ugh," Ron threw his head back with a groan. "Now I owe Harry twenty galleons. How could you, Hermione?"

Draco stood at her side and glanced between them. He'd expected more ire from the most hotheaded of the Weasleys but he merely looked slightly put out.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Ron, you both knew how I felt about him."

"What?" Draco wrapped a hand around her arm and turned her to face him. "They both knew that you...that you..."

"Yes," Ron grumbled. Harry appeared at his side wearing a shit-eating grin, palm out. "And I currently hate you for it."

"As if you wouldn't have anyway," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Pay up," Harry insisted.

Ron dug into his pocket and produced a small sack of coins that he threw at his best friend's chest. Harry caught it however, and stuffed it in his robes with a smug grin.

"And for the record," Ron pointed a long finger at Draco, "I still may not like you but no one is stupid enough to question Hermione's choice in men."

"Did everyone know you had feelings for me? Everyone but me?"

Harry grinned as he reached up to adjust his glasses. "We only found out after she and Ginny had too much wine to drink one night about six months ago. Interrogating two drunk witches barely capable of levitating a feather isn't exactly difficult."

Draco glanced down to find Hermione glaring at them.

"Don't worry. They teased me mercilessly until Ginny cast her bat bogey hex on each of them."

"_Anyway_," Harry interrupted, "We were just off to the loo. Too much punch."

Ron opened his mouth to speak as they passed but Hermione gave him a gentle shove. "Ron, I'll see you at the Burrow tomorrow for lunch. I promise. Just keep your mouth shut."

He opened his mouth to argue but his jaw snapped closed when she arched a single brow in challenge. He huffed and made a point to ram his shoulder against Draco's as he shuffled past.

Draco rolled his shoulder as he watched him walk away. "Real winning personality Weasley has."

Hermione folded her arms over her chest and turned to face him. "He has his moments."

He met her eyes and felt his nerves rise again. "One should have more than mere moments. Otherwise, you get relegated to friend status."

She dropped her arms and stepped up to him again. "You're far from friend status at this point, Draco."

He looked down when he felt her hand reaching for his. Her fingers, thin and small, laced through his and she gave a squeeze.

"You realize that I come with baggage?" He lifted his eyes to meet hers. "There's a very ugly smudge on my arm that I got as a lovely reminder of the horrible things I'd been taught at home growing up."

She nodded, "I'm aware."

"And you know that there's certain things...expectations," he nearly choked on the word, "that I can't escape."

"Such as?"

"Yesterday I was supposed to give my parents the name of a witch I intended to pursue. For marriage," he added.

Hermione pulled her lower lip between her teeth. "And I suppose I didn't make that list."

"Perhaps not theirs but I'd like to whittle down mine."

Hermione didn't drop his hand. "Is there a rush?"

Draco swallowed. "Not necessarily. Traditionally, there would be a period of courtship."

She cocked her head curiously. "The sort of thing with flowers and books, dates and dinners?"

It was difficult not to allow hope to fill his chest yet. She'd not run the hills so far.

"That would be the sort of thing, yes."

"And I assume this would be included?" She dropped his hand and he quickly missed her now familiar warmth. He watched as she flicked her wrist and the last item, a thin bracelet lined with small rubies, appeared in her open palm.

His breath was lodged in his throat but he somehow managed to speak. "A ring felt far too presumptuous."

Hermione braced her palms against his chest, the bracelet, dangling between her fingers, and leaned up to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

"Then I accept."


	7. More Each Day

This has been a fun one to write, guys but it's come to an end. I appreciate all of the support and reviews more than you know. I hope you enjoy the little ending.

* * *

**More Each Day**

"I heard they've been secretly seeing one another for over a year now and his parents are going to disown him."

"I heard his parents wanted Astoria Greengrass for him."

"I heard they're already engaged."

"Well, I heard it's none of your bloody business."

The trio of witches jumped at Ron's barked interruption. They all paled before quickly scurrying away from the punch.

Ron rolled his eyes and glanced back at Harry and Ginny. Their eyes were trained on the dance floor where Draco and Hermione were now dancing. Well, if one could call it that. They'd returned from their little meeting at the fountain and he'd quickly swept her into a waltz. They'd not left the floor for the last three songs and now were swaying gently to a slower song. All the while, the crowd was abuzz with gossip about them.

"They look better together than I imagined," Ginny cooed.

Harry shook his head, amused. "If you like blonde ferrets." He flinched when she backhanded him across his chest.

"Behave, would you? Hermione deserves to be happy. I don't care who it is as long as they make her happy."

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose I'm fine with it for that reason. He's still a git though."

"Who is?" Lavender asked, joining them with a glass of wine in hand.

Ron gestured to the dancefloor and tried not to grumble. They were hardly even together for an hour and already he was making all of the other men look bad.

"They had better not get married before we do!"

He threw his head back with a loud groan. "I can't win tonight!"

On the other side of the ballroom, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy sat quietly observing the crowd. They'd not missed the moment their son emerged into the evening's fray with the muggleborn witch on his arm.

"She'll sully the Malfoy line," Lucius sneered.

Narcissa sighed and reached for her glass of wine. "You've done enough of that on your own, dear." She pushed to her feet and cast him a smug look. "It looks like Draco chose the rubies from the Black collection of family jewels. How fitting."

He glared at her back as she slid into the crowd. "I am an island," he muttered to himself.

Draco was oblivious to his parents bickering, too absorbed with the witch in his arms. She was a perfect fit. Her head rested perfectly against his shoulder while he swayed them. They'd lost rhythm of the song ages ago but he didn't care. She was warm and she kept wrapping her arms tighter around him.

It was a sign of things to come. The more he opened himself up, the tighter she held him. When he formally introduced her to his parents, she never let go. When she introduced him to her parents, she held even tighter.

Over the following eight months, he ignored the papers, constantly sticking their nose where it wasn't welcome. Public opinion appeared lukewarm which wasn't a total loss. Most accepted their relationship for what it was but that didn't stop a few of the more vocal people from questioning why she should choose _him_.

It didn't stop her from saying yes to his proposal. It didn't stop her from agreeing to a short engagement so that they could be married in time for Christmas.

Draco lifted his glass of champagne to his lips and nearly choked on the bubbly liquid when a hand landed roughly on his shoulder.

"Congratulations, mate!"

He cut a sharp glare at Blaise who was dressed in a muggle suit with traditional tails—a concession Hermione had requested for their blended wedding.

Before he could respond, Blaise stole his glass and downed the drink in two gulps. "You don't want too much of that. Won't be able to perform." He waggled his eyebrows for good measure.

"I'll perform just fine," he snarked in return.

Though the fear was within him that he wouldn't. The fear that he would disappoint her was always present and he wasn't sure it would ever disappear.

"She looks lovely," Blaise commented.

It was hard to look anywhere else but at Hermione who was moving across the dancefloor with her father. She'd forgone a veil, not liking the tradition. Her unruly curls had been pulled away from her face and the fading sunlight warmed her pale shoulders. Draco wasn't too proud to admit that he'd teared up upon seeing her coming down the aisle.

It was the smile on her face which sparked Draco's own. His mother had taken to her quite easy, though his father chose to remain distant. Hermione had loved the London townhouse when he showed it to her and he'd been pleased to learn that her parents weren't too far away.

He was determined to allow the glimpse of the life they could have together to become reality.

"Lovely wedding, Draco."

Draco and Blaise both looked down to find Luna Lovegood standing before them, a glass of sweet elf wine in hand. Her robes were a peculiar shade of green. One that Draco was certain he'd seen before. Her blue eyes sparkled with awareness.

"Thank you for coming," he responded automatically.

Luna's smile widened and there was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. "I see you found your third option to be the most pleasing. I'm so glad you didn't talk yourself out of it." She held her glass up in salute. "Payment in full. Congratulations."

She skipped off, nearly literally, and began chattering with some of their old classmates.

Draco turned slowly and squinted at his best friend. Blaise lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

"You wouldn't have gone to her if I'd told you."

"You mean that..." he pointed to Luna and then dropped his hand. "I've been duped."

"No," Blaise corrected him with a grin, "you were shown what you needed to see. Don't complain now. You chose the right witch. Nothing else to be said for it."

He would have stood there and argued that but what was the point? He got what he wanted in the end. He got the witch that he knew would make him happy for the rest of his life. The perfect partner, her haughty know-it-all-ness, her obstinate bravery, and warm heart—she was the perfect package.

"You might want to get back to your new wife," Blaise grinned at him.

The word wife washed over him and a warm shiver worked up his spine.

"It looks like your mother is trying to break out the charmed tape measurers to measure her for a dress for her official family portrait. Her father looks confused as hell, too."

Draco snorted. "And my father?" He didn't bother to look himself.

"Still convulsing in the corner. Theo slipped him a firewhisky and he's nearly sloshed all of it on the table in his effort to avoid people coming up to congratulate him on his new daughter-in-law. Has he ever been around this many muggles at one time?"

Draco huffed but he wasn't surprised. It was a small mercy enough that his father hadn't caused more problems than he had. He'd tried to bar Hermione from being officially registered as a member of the Malfoy family in the Ministry's records. His mother had put her foot down, of course.

Hermione's insistence in keeping her surname had only irritated Lucius even more. When Draco announced that they would not reside at the manor and instead had opted to take up the London townhouse, the vein in Lucius forehead had protruded and never really relaxed. Whenever his mother spoke of their future children, Hermione blushed and Draco groaned but it was all worth it to see his father's skin pale to an ashen grey.

"Serves him right," Draco muttered.

He brushed past guests and friends, and stopped short of her and her father as the current song came to an end.

"May I cut in?"

"For the rest of our lives," Hermione quipped.

She kissed her father's cheek and took Draco's open hand. He twirled her in a circle before pulling her tight to his chest.

"Are you happy?" Draco asked.

A smile small curled the corners of her mouth and Hermione lifted a hand from his chest. She cupped his jaw before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. He'd wondered at first if the spark would ever fade. He'd been thankful to find it didn't.

"Very happy, Draco. And you?"

He glanced over her shoulder and spied Luna Lovegood speaking with Harry and Ginny Potter. She caught his gaze and lifted her glass of wine in silent salute again.

"More each day, Hermione."


End file.
